


shattering stars

by WingsOfTime



Series: ikael [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen, Relationship Development, bring your tissues? maybe, mention of other characters, spoilers until after stormblood, this is Platonic guis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 01:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13377351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingsOfTime/pseuds/WingsOfTime
Summary: A person does not meet you already loved by you.





	shattering stars

**Author's Note:**

> Set before and until "One of these days." Contains spoilers up til and including Stormblood.
> 
>  
> 
> (reading of other works in series not required, although always recommended! ^^)

Thancred doesn’t notice too much about the novice adventurer when they first meet, other than the fact that his fighting forms are a bit stiff and that yellow is _really_ not his colour.

The adventurer introduces himself as Ikael Jelaar. He stumbles a bit on the name and Thancred wonders how new it is. Thancred winks, and Ikael blushes, stutters _._ Thancred smiles to himself. _Heh._

~*~

Ikael more or less hides behind Thancred when he is introduced to the Scions. Minfilia draws him out with a kind smile and a tinkling laugh.

Thancred thinks Ikael is scared of Y’shtola. The thought is amusing.

Ikael brightens when they get assigned together, and Thancred makes sure to compliment him with his most charming smile. He gets another blush.

~*~

Ifrit reaches Ikael before Thancred does.

Then Thancred is possessed by an Ascian.

~*~

He is recovering, and they are calling Ikael the Warrior of Light. Ikael is accepting the praise with a dazed, nervous grin, and always seems surprised when he gets flooded by his fans. Thancred would think Ikael ingenuine, but then someone says “Warrior of Light” one time among many, and he notices the smallest of flinches.

Thancred wonders if Ikael feels like it is too much for him to handle. He wonders if Ikael will collapse under his new title.

He does not.

~*~

Thancred is dwelling on everything he has ever done wrong—the tally is high. The Waking Sands is near empty, save for Urianger, and Thancred knows he will not disturb him.

Ikael walks past him, then stops and turns around. Half of his outfit is an unfortunate yellow— _really_ not his colour—and the other half looks like it has been taken from Rowena’s newest display stands.

“Hey!” Ikael says to him with a friendly smile.

Thancred wonders what would make that smile pop. He says, “Hay is for cattle.”

Ikael grins at him, all squinty-eyed. Thancred is genuinely curious if he has simply forgotten everything that’s happened because of Thancred in the last year, or if he really is too straggle-minded to bother to string it along with him.

Ikael thrusts a tray at him. “Do you want a lemon tart?” he offers.

Thancred looks down. The tarts are ununiform and a bit squished. “Did Tataru make these?” he asks, even as he thinks that Tataru would never let anything out of the oven if it were less than perfect.

“Actually, I did,” Ikael replies, non-surprisingly. “I’ve, uh… been trying my hand at cooking recently. Y’shtola said she liked these last time, so I made some more for her. But… ha… this is probably too much.”

Thancred has seen Y’shtola consume nearly an entire bakery. He takes a tart.

It is… good. _Very_ good. How much has Ikael learned in Thancred's absence?

Thancred offers Ikael a smile, and the one he gets in return is… fond.

~*~

Thancred is sitting on the roof of the Waking Sands with a bottle of Vesper Bay’s finest. The stars are hazy, and beautiful, and as silent as he feels. They are judging him.

Thancred hears someone approach him from behind. He is about to grumble at them to go away, but then Ikael plops himself down next to him without asking if he can sit.

“Here,” Ikael says. “You liked the tart, so I made… a bigger one?”

Ikael is holding… a pie. An entire pie.

Thancred is drunk. He stares, nonplussed.

“It’s lemon,” Ikael says, waving it around a little. “It might help with your hangover in the morning.”

Thancred makes a gruff noise. Then he is suddenly angry. The blush has faded from Ikael’s cheeks, so why is he doing this? Why isn’t he leaving Thancred to rot like he deserves?

The pie tastes good. Of course it does.

~*~

“I don’t blame you,” Ikael says into the night. Thancred pretends as if he doesn’t hear.

~*~

They move to the Rising Stones. Ikael complains about the cold, and Thancred suggests he gets an extra attachment sewn into his clothing for his tail. Ikael huffs at him, then loudly and playfully moans about how clumsy hyur are, and that it’s a miracle Thancred manages to hit _anything_ , really.

The banter lifts Thancred's heart for a sweet minute.

~*~

The last girl is crying, sniffling into Ikael’s chest as he murmurs words of comfort to her. He gives her a sugary treat—like he had with the others—and a kiss on the forehead, then sends her on her way.

Thancred catches his gaze by accident. Ikael glares at him, and walks off.

He doesn’t say more than a few sentences to Thancred for the rest of the week.

~*~

They are summoned to a banquet. Ikael pesters Thancred about his knowledge of dances, his earrings, his choice of outfit. Thancred advises against the colour yellow.

Nanamo’s drink spills.

The Scions are scattered.

~*~

Thancred can feel his mind harden the same way he can feel his nails and hair get long and unkept. He meets a nutkin.

The Warrior of Darkness nearly kills a miqo’te with steely eyes and _ridiculous_ clothing. Thancred throws his dagger, and Ikael’s gaze softens so much he seems like an entirely different person.

When they get on the airship, Thancred readies himself for a story. He doesn’t expect to be immediately tackled with a hug so tight he feels as if his lungs are going to burst.

“I missed you,” Ikael breathes, holding him for a long, long moment. Then he says, “You smell different.”

Thancred—Thancred _laughs_ , small and startled.

He’s missed them too.

~*~

The Ishgardians are relying on Ikael for… a lot. Thancred looks at Ser Aymeric’s handsome features and then looks at Ikael. He mentions a few things out loud that, judging by the tilt of Ikael’s smirk, no one has brought up before. He relaxes.

He asks Alphinaud about Lord Haurchefant Greystone. Alphinaud makes sure Ikael is not in earshot before he tells him. They weren’t involved, but… Thancred knows the pain of losing someone who matters to you that much.

Ikael wins Ishgard the grand melee. Then he saves a doomed man possessed by an ancient being. He is starting to make a habit of that.

~*~

They say their final goodbye to Minfilia, and nearly all Thancred can feel is grief. He can smile for her, but…

Ikael comes up to him after, and says quietly, “She is lucky she has someone who loves her as much as you do.”

Thancred doesn’t give much thought to his words, and soon forgets them, leaving them in the rut of meaningless sympathy that glances off his skin. They have more important things to focus on than his feelings.

~*~

Thancred gets a fever. Ikael won’t leave him alone throughout, of course. Lyse—finally Lyse—starts babbling about the clothes Tataru has made her, and then Tataru joins in, babbling back, and then Ikael brings them food because they must be hungry, right? Alphinaud paces, Alisaie sighs at him, Urianger moons over the wind-up toy he has made of Moenbryda.

They are all passing time doing nothing, of course. Perhaps it is so they don’t feel itchy with the wait for news, _any_ news.

Then M’naago bursts in.

~*~

Alisaie tells them that Ikael, Lyse, Alphinaud, Tataru, and herself are all off to the Far East for some reason. Thancred wishes them a confused good luck. Urianger remembers something at the last minute and sprints for Limsa Lominsa.

Ikael calls him by linkpearl an hour later to anxiously check whether he has left his personal oven lit. Thancred chuckles and tells him no, then quickly puts it out before it can set fire to the whole room.

~*~

They come back, lay siege, and free a country. Well, _Ikael_ frees a country. It is his name that is on their armies’ lips, after all. For every “Ala Mhigo!” there is one “Ikael Jelaar!” Thancred grins when he tells Ikael this.

Apparently Ikael cannot hear Minfilia’s name anymore. Thancred feels sympathy when he carefully carries Ikael to a tent and lays him down. He tells the chirurgeons that Ikael has an upset stomach and to make sure he eats something when he is feeling better.

~*~

Something has happened.

Thancred does not know what; all he knows is that he and Ikael are out in the Shroud for a mission, and he has been woken up by a strange sound.

Ikael has been keeping watch, and he would not let danger near without alerting Thancred first. So Thancred looks.

Ikael’s back is to him. His arms must be hugging his knees because Thancred cannot see them. His head is lowered, his tail is curled around himself, and his ears are angled so low they are hard to discern from his hair.

He is crying.

Rather, he is letting out deep, heart-wrenching sobs that seem to tear their way out of his throat. He is trying to keep quiet for Thancred's sake, Thancred can tell, but he is shaking, his shoulders are heaving, his weeping is raw. It is futile.

“Ikael,” Thancred calls out in a low voice.

Ikael unfolds, clutches a handful of grass, turns around. He is shaking too much—he is crying too hard to apologize for making noise. He simply looks at Thancred, his face wet, his eyes like crystals. His breathing is jagged and desperate.

Thancred goes over to him. He kneels down, and… Ikael is looking at him—so strangely. Thancred wonders if this is the man behind the pies, the generosity, the softness.

There is nothing soft about Ikael right now. Thancred does not know what has caused him such distress, but whatever it is is his own battle to fight; Thancred cannot do much. Even so… he can do _something_. He extends an arm, holds it out to the side a little.

Ikael doesn’t move, still looking oh-so-strange. Thancred stretches out his other arm, and says, “It’s there if you need it, my friend.”

He doesn’t see hesitation in Ikael’s eyes, because he does not know how to read him right now. But at first Ikael does nothing, and then he is scrambling forward, nearly grappling onto Thancred. He collapses into him, and then he is sobbing, harshly, without pause. Thancred does his best to hold Ikael tightly and soothe him, but he can barely be heard over Ikael’s noises.

Eventually, Ikael calms down, his crying turning into soft hiccups. Thancred pats him on the back, intending to keep comforting him for as long as he needs, but Ikael—withdraws. And for the first time in a long time, Thancred can feel the distance between them.

“What is it?” Thancred asks. His verbal footing is unsecure.

Ikael looks at him quietly with a stranger’s eyes. He says, “Nothing that concerns you, Thancred.”

The words hit harder than Thancred is willing to admit. “Whom does it concern, then?” he asks.

Ikael’s gaze is still distant, but it is heavy with an old, intimate awareness. “… No one,” he whispers.

The words are fragile, on the cusp of loneliness. They shatter like stars between them, and fall to the ground as diamond dust.

Ikael clears his throat, and says, “Thank you. I am sorry for ruining your shirt.” His words are false; not in their meaning, but in who delivers them. But his voice is still sore, still unchanged.

Thancred remembers what Ikael had said so long ago, then. About Minfilia.

No—not Minfilia. Not really.

Thancred says, “You are my friend, Ikael.”

Ikael smiles. His eyes are sad, as if Thancred's words draw up the barrier Thancred has never noticed between them once more.

So Thancred says, “I love you.”

The barrier is shattered, for a shocked instant. Ikael says “What?” Fragile. Sharp.

Thancred repeats, “I—”

“No.” Ikael laughs. It is not a happy laugh. “You do not,” he says. “You love what I can do for you. Who I can be.”

Ikael does not believe him. Nor will he, Thancred knows, no matter how many times he repeats the words. Repetition will do naught for a soul whose mark it does not hit.

Thancred wonders if Ikael knows what love is.

“I’ll prove it to you,” Thancred says.

And he does.

~*~

Ikael comes to him with black armour, with guilt, with a stone living and breathing dark aether. Thancred helps. When Ikael’s tears dry Thancred tucks him into his own bed, brushes his forehead with his knuckles.

Ikael catches a cold. The sight of him curled up on his bed and smothered in blankets is an endearing one. Thancred does not sit by him when he is awake, but when Ikael is asleep he keeps the glass of water by his bedside full, untangles his bedsheets, sings to him softly even after his eyes close. He makes sure Ikael eats the soup Alys warms for him.

Krile mentions Minfilia once, and Thancred smoothly interrupts, changing the topic and pretending to ignore the annoyed roll of her eyes. Ikael looks at him gratefully.

Ikael is tugging at his Shisui gear, trying to pull the fabric up over his skin, and Thancred says, “It would not do to deprive the world of such a view, my friend,” and winks. It startles a laugh out of Ikael, and he stops. Thancred leaves him his jacket just in case.

He asks Ikael questions. Ikael answers them. He makes jokes. Ikael giggles and jokes back. He takes steps in a new direction, and Ikael is right there next to him, offering his hand.

Ikael starts looking at him differently, more… openly, and Thancred never would have noticed if he had not tried to. The love has always, unconditionally, been in Ikael. But now, the trust starts to appear in his gaze as well.

Thancred smiles. Ikael smiles back.

~*~

“… and it will _continue_ to be that way, because you are an idiot.”

Ikael looks hurt. His mouth opens a little and he says nothing back. Thancred squashes down (and tramples on) the sudden need to apologize, and sighs.

“Now you say something mean back,” he urges.

Ikael looks as if the very idea is abominable to him. “I don’t want to be mean to you!” he says.

“It doesn’t have to be _sincere_ ,” Thancred groans. “Come on, Ikael—think of it as striking and blocking, but with words.”

Ikael looks confused.

Thancred tries, “You’re good at hitting things, right?”

Ikael nods rapidly.

“It shows, because your head is dense enough to break stone.”

Ikael… looks even _more_ hurt.

Thancred sighs again, then strides forward. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean it, you big baby,” he mutters, giving Ikael a hug.

Ikael pushes him away and sniffles. Thancred stares, slightly aghast, as he starts full-on crying.

“I-I _am_ sorry, truly I didn’t—” he starts.

“I thought y-you were my f-friend,” Ikael whimpers, and guilt hits Thancred like a brick. “All y-you do is m-make fun of m-me and… h-hit me and… I c-care about you so m-much and I make you _p-pie_ and all your favourite f-foods and you…”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Thancred is beginning to panic. “Please stop crying—I hate it when you cry. Here, just,” He tries to offer a hug again but Ikael wails and turns away.

Thancred is scrambling, trying to remedy the situation, and he thinks… and _keeps thinking_ …. Wait. “I don’t hit you that often,” he mutters, “That I remember. Actually, it’s usually you who does the hitting.”

Ikael looks up with wide eyes brimming with tears, and Thancred is about to apologize again for his misstep before Ikael grins suddenly and cuffs him upside the head.

“Idiot,” Ikael says. “I’m not _that_ much of a crybaby, gods.”

Thancred gapes at him. Ikael’s grin grows.

“… You little shite,” Thancred says, somewhat in awe. He starts to grin as well.

Ikael winks. “Gets me far,” he says.

Thancred thinks. How many times had Ikael… “You _clever_ little shite,” he repeats, grin widening as he shakes his head. Ikael starts to laugh. After a few seconds, Thancred joins in.

Ikael never says “I love you,” out loud. It is odd, for someone so sentimental, but at the same time it makes sense. For _Ikael_ , the man who is no longer a stranger, it makes sense. But he doesn’t need to say it, because Thancred knows anyways.

They both do.

~*~


End file.
